Felix walked steadily on for nearly three hours, when the rough track, the dust, and heat began to tell upon him, and he sat down beside the way.  The sun was now declining, and the long June day tending to its end.  A horseman passed, coming from the camp, and as he wore only a sword, and had a leathern bag slung from his shoulder, he appeared to be a courtier.  The dust raised by the hoofs, as it rose and floated above the brushwood, rendered his course visible.  Some time afterwards, while he still rested, being very weary with walking through the heat of the afternoon, he heard the sound of wheels, and two carts drawn by horses came along the track from the city.

The carts were laden with bundles of arrows, perhaps the same he had seen unloading that morning from the war-ship, and were accompanied only by carters.  As they approached he rose, feeling that it was time to continue his journey.  His tired feet were now stiff, and he limped as he stepped out into the road.  The men spoke, and he walked as well as he could beside them, using his boar-spear as a staff.  There were two carters with each cart; and presently, noting how he lagged, and could scarce keep pace with them, one of them took a wooden bottle from the load on his cart, and offered him a draught of ale.

Thus somewhat refreshed, Felix began to talk, and learnt that the arrows were from the vessel in whose track he had sailed; that it had been sent loaded with stores for the king’s use, by his friend the Prince of Quinton; that very great efforts had been made to get together a large army in this campaign; first, because the city besieged was so near home, and failure might be disastrous, and, secondly, because it was one of three which were all republics, and the other two would be certain to send it assistance.  These cities stood in a plain, but a few miles apart, and in a straight line on the banks of the river.  The king had just sat down before the first, vowing that he would knock them down, one after the other, like a row of ninepins.

The carters asked him, in return, whose retainer he was, and he said that he was on his way to take service, and was under no banner yet.

“Then,” said the man who had given him a drink, “if you are free like that, you had better join the king’s levy, and be careful to avoid the barons’ war.  For if you join either of the barons’ war, they will know you to be a stranger, and very likely, if they see that you are quick and active, they will not let you free again, and if you attempt to escape after the campaign, you will find yourself mightily mistaken.  The baron’s captain would only have to say you had always been his man; and, as for your word, it would be no more than a dog’s bark.  Besides which, if you rebelled, it would be only to shave off that moustache of yours, and declare you a slave, and as you have no friends in camp, a slave you would be.”

“That would be very unjust,” said Felix.  “Surely the king would not allow it?”